


a quiet storm

by waveydnp



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Anal Sex, Feelings, First Time, M/M, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: As soon as I was capable of wanting anyone, I wanted him.And now I have him, in all the sweaty grunting chaotic passion of my most ardent fantasies and it’s getting cocked up by Penelope sodding Bunce. He’s biting my neck. He’s licking over the teeth marks. He’s lighting me on fire and Crowley, what a lovely way to burn.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 37
Kudos: 394





	a quiet storm

**Simon**

Penny comes home earlier than I thought she would, but too late to stop what Baz and I have started. What we’ve been doing for quite a while now, actually.

He and I both freeze when we hear the front door open and then slam shut. She never really does anything quietly. Baz says she’s like me in that way. _Remarkably lacking in any kind of refinement_ , he’d say. Or _a couple of graceless oafs, the pair of you_. He’d say it with love. Penny and I are two of his favourite people on this earth.

The walls in this flat are really thin. Nothing really happens without everyone in the apartment hearing it. Penny spells the toilet soundproof whenever she uses it. And half the time when I use it, since I can’t do it myself and she says she loves me but she really doesn’t need to hear _that_.

Anyway, the point is, my cock is buried inside Baz’s ass right now, and we can hear Penny moving about in her bedroom. Which means she can also hear us.

**Baz**

Damn it all to fucking hell, Bunce. You couldn’t have stayed out just half an hour longer?

Snow goes stiff on top of me. I snarl where my face is mashed into his pillow, breathing in the buttery scent of him that lingers there. If she spooks him enough to ruin the glorious ravishing he’s only halfway through delighting me with, I swear to Crowley and Merlin and all that is unholy that I _will_ do what’s in my nature and drain her dry.

We don’t get to do this often.

Actually, that’s too generous. We don’t really get to do this ever. It’s all new, it’s all tenuous, and tonight he wanted me. It felt different from the moment he reached for me on the sofa. We were watching some insipid action film and he just reached out and took me. Pressed his lips to mine like it was easy. Licked into my mouth and tangled his fingers into my hair and pulled me into his lap like it wasn’t going to absolutely fucking shatter me.

Well, it has. I’m utterly shattered. I’m pressed face down into his mattress and he’s on top of me. He’s _inside_ me. A moment ago he was fucking me. Now he’s as unmoving as any of the wooden gargoyles on my bed frame back in Hampshire, listening to his best friend and flatmate banging about in the next room like a fucking elephant.

And I can’t spell the room soundproof because my wand is still in the lounge, lying on the floor amongst the clothes Snow had ripped off my body before manhandling me into his bedroom.

Fuck, the memory makes me shiver. Involuntarily, I clench around Snow’s cock, which only makes me whimper.

It seems to do something to him as well.

**Simon**

Oh, Jesus fucking Nicks and—

I bury my face in Baz’s neck. I’m not used to this yet. This sex stuff, and how bloody incredible it feels. I know it’s probably not good form to just push your partner down face first and lie on top of their back and hump like some kind of deranged bunny rabbit. I do know that, but I kind of couldn’t help it. As soon as I took my pants off Baz was gagging for it and his keenness just bypassed all the bullshit in my brain that usually makes me scared to even think of us being together like this. I had to have him right away and I guess some weird caveman instinct took over.

It’s not like he was complaining. He couldn’t get the lube out fast enough.

He smells so good. Cedar and bergamot. Reminds me of Watford, of the steamy air he’d release into our room in the morning after his ridiculously long showers. I’d miss that scent in the summers, even if I never let myself believe it. It’s like home. Baz, the way he smells, the way his skin is always cool until I warm it up, his grey eyes and his marble white skin and his fucking footballer thighs— well. He’s my home, isn’t he?

He makes a really sexy noise and the walls of his ass squeeze around my cock and it’s like a punch in the fucking gut. I lick his neck and bite it and he makes another noise that sounds like _please_ and even though Penny will be able to hear the creaking of the bedsprings I just can’t help rolling my hips into him, slowly sliding myself deeper into the tightness of his body.

It’s unbelievable. Like, literally, I don’t believe it. I don’t believe that pleasure like this exists. I’ve never experienced it, not even when eating sour cherry scones so fresh they’re still warm enough to melt the thick pats of butter I’d top them with. Not even the first time I wanked without stopping myself thinking about Baz’s body in his football kit, and let me tell you, that one nearly knocked me out. Of course I immediately placed the experience on my list of things never to think of ever again on penalty of painful agonizing death, but still.

Anyway. I’ve experienced joy. And happiness. And lots of other positive emotions. But pleasure? Nothing touches this. Nothing touches finally allowing myself to be the boyfriend I always promised Baz I’d be. I’ve got the terrible part down to a fucking science, but the boyfriend bit? Proper boyfriends who kiss and touch and fuck without spirals of anxiety? Still trying to get the hang of that. I thought tonight was going to be the crown jewel on my beginner’s crown. Does that make sense? I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t. I can’t concentrate when my extremely fit and sexy boyfriend is writhing beneath me, begging me without words to fuck him.

Actually, maybe he is using words.

**Baz**

“Snow,” I whimper, as quietly as I can, which isn’t hard considering there hasn’t been air in my lungs for at least two minutes. “Please.”

I’m dying. I’m already dead, but I’m dying again, a much slower, more torturous end this time, waiting for him to roll off of me and send me off for a consolation wank in his bathroom. I mean, I’m used to those, been perfecting them since the summer after fifth year, thank you very much. I’m a true scholar in that department. I haven’t reached completion without his bronze curls and blue eyes swimming behind my eyelids in… well. Maybe I never have, if we’re being completely honest. As soon as I was capable of wanting anyone, I wanted him.

And now I have him, in all the sweaty grunting chaotic passion of my most ardent fantasies and it’s getting cocked up by Penelope sodding Bunce. He’s biting my neck. He’s licking over the teeth marks. He’s lighting me on fire and Crowley, what a lovely way to burn.

Then his mouth is on my ear. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispers.

“I’d sooner be eviscerated by a pack of wild boars,” I say into his pillow.

“What?”

I shake my head, then turn it to the side so he can hear me. “Never. Never want you to stop.”

“She might hear,” he whispers. His breath is molten, the heat of it rippling down my spine. I arch my back and he slides into me just a millimeter deeper, but it’s enough. He grunts and bites the meat of my shoulder, hard.

“Snow, I’d let you fuck me in bleeding Trafalgar Square. I’d let you sell tickets to the show. Don’t fucking stop. I am quite literally begging.”

“You actually like it?” He sounds amazed, the idiot. He really is a profoundly stupid boy. I would die for him. I’d lay waste to anyone who dared lay a finger on him.

I suppose I already have done. But I’d do it again. I’d do anything for him.

**Simon**

It’s a stupid question. I know he likes it. Just… sometimes it’s still hard to believe. It’s hard to believe someone as handsome and clever and powerful and _good_ as him could want anything to do with me. The worst Chosen One to ever be chosen. The winged freak. The magic-less magician. The chavvy Normal with poor fashion sense and bad manners and no future to speak of.

Only, I do have a future. It’s him. Him and Penny.

Speaking of, something heavy hits the ground in her room. It must be a book. She swears and even though it’s a muttered curse, Baz and I still hear it clear as day. There really isn’t even a whisper of privacy in this bloody flat. I’ve never much cared before today. The few times Baz and I have fooled around, she’s been out. She was _supposed_ to be out tonight, at dinner with her family. They mustn’t have ordered dessert.

I’m torn from my inner musings when Baz pushes his ass back against my hips. It pulls something low in my gut and I make a noise that’s too loud.

“Simon?” Penny calls out.

Baz shoves his face back into my pillow. Then he pushes back into me again.

Fuck. It feels so good I’m tempted to just shout out the truth to her and let the chips fall where they may.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice much more gruff than usual. “I’m here.”

“Is Baz here? I saw his stupid posh shoes on the mat.”

“Piss off, Bunce.”

I grin. Baz sounds so collected, so cool, even with an arseful of my cock.

I don’t know why, but something about that turns me on so fiercely that I thrust into him without warning. He reaches an arm back and presses his hand on the small of my back, encouraging me to carry on.

So I do. I latch onto his neck with my teeth and hump and hump and hump and I don’t care that I’m as bad at sex as I am at everything else because I like it and Baz likes it and that’s all that’s ever really mattered to me. I’m his terrible boyfriend and he loves me.

**Baz**

I love him.

I love him so much. I need to tell him, and soon.

Maybe tomorrow morning. If he lets me stay the night, if he lets me hold him into the morning and wake up next to him, I’ll tell him. I’ll kiss his morning breath and push the sleep mussed curls from his eyes and inform him of the depths of my adoration. With any luck, he might even return the sentiment.

I think he does love me. I can’t imagine he’d have put up with as much as he has from me if he didn’t love me. He may be a mess, but I am too. We’ve had that conversation, but I think sometimes he fancies himself the Prime Fuckup in this relationship. As if I’m not an undead dark creature who sustains himself on the blood of living beings. As if I wasn’t by his side as we tore through the heart of middle America leaving a trail of carnage in our wake.

Merlin, he feels so fucking good inside me. I can’t imagine we make a pretty picture right now, me collapsed on my front, him humping on top of me. Honestly, that just makes it all the more delicious. I can feel him sliding in and out of me in excruciating detail. Thank Magic for my vampirically heightened senses.

Or maybe this is just what sex feels like for everyone. I suppose I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. My own cock is rock hard and drooling precome onto his sheets. It’s over sensitive, rubbed nearly raw. Every time he snaps his hips he pushes all of his weight and mine against it, grinding it into the bed. It’s the single most intoxicating pleasure I could possibly imagine. Aside, perhaps, from him waking up in the morning and telling me he loves me as much as I love him. I don’t suppose anything could ever be better than that.

I do hope he lets me spend the night.

I can hear Bunce shuffling around. Even with a carpeted floor, every footfall is heavy and pronounced. The downstairs neighbours must absolutely despise these two. I know I would.

Snow’s mouth is still pressed to my ear. He’s breathing hot and ragged. His thrusts are slow, I think because it makes this shit bed creak less. I’d offer to buy him a higher quality mattress if I thought he’d say yes. He does let me pay for some things, but he’d probably see a new bed as wasteful since he’s already got one. He’d call it a _perfectly decent mattress_ , _Basilton_ and suggest I get him an Indian takeaway instead.

I’m not actually bothered if Bunce hears us. Snow and I are adults, she’s an adult. She knows we’re together. I’m sure she wouldn’t much care if she had to occasionally hear the evidence of our physical expressions of affection to each other. But Snow cares. Obviously.

I test him by turning my head to the side and letting out a quiet moan. He reaches up and closes his hand over my mouth somewhat roughly. My eyes nearly roll back in my head. I think I’m deranged. I must be. I moan again, against his fingers, and he only fucks me harder.

I like this now. It feels like a game, one I can’t possibly lose.

**Simon**

Baz is going to drive me proper mental. The _sounds_ he’s making. They’re criminal. They go straight to my cock.

Now that we’re finally doing this - now that I’m finally letting this happen - I wonder how I could have possibly held out for so long. What exactly was I so afraid of?

Maybe it’s because I’m still totally in control. I’m still not letting him touch me, really. I’m doing all the touching. It’s just me taking and taking. But it’s so good. We’re attached. Just for now, we’re two people with one body.

I hope the noises he’s making are real. I hope he’s not just humouring me.

It’s getting hard to concentrate on anything but the tightness of Baz around me and the smell of his skin and the way he’s sucked one of my fingers into his mouth. I suppose that works just as well to shut him up as clamping my hand over his gob. I wonder if he’d use his mouth on me if I asked. Would I be able to handle that? Could I let him give me that much?

Would his fangs pop?

I shouldn’t have let myself think of his fangs. Now I’m thinking about Lamb and I feel like I could murder someone. I never really relished taking the lives I’ve had to take over the years, but his is one I’d end gladly in a heartbeat.

He tried to take Baz from me. I’m not convinced he won’t show up here one day with his stupid dreamy face and use everything he’s got to try to tempt Baz back to Vegas, back to a world where he wouldn’t have to pretend to be something he isn’t. I bet Lamb wouldn’t have a problem letting Baz suck him. I bed Lamb would let Baz touch him wherever Baz bloody well pleased.

I growl quietly right next to Baz’s ear at the thought.

Then Penny knocks on my door and we both freeze.

**Baz**

I’m going to murder Bunce. I’m going to make a meal of her.

“Simon, I’m making tea, do you want some?”

Is she really this dense? It’s not like her. What does she think we’re doing in here? Has she not seen the pile of my clothes on the floor in the lounge? Has she not wondered why we’ve been suspiciously quiet, not so much as a word uttered between us since she got home? She’s a clever woman. One of the most intelligent magicians - nay, _people_ \- I’ve ever met.

Maybe she does know. Maybe she’s toying with us.

“No thank you,” Snow croaks, and I almost laugh. He sounds an absolute wreck.

“Basilton?”

“I’m alright, Bunce, thank you.” I sound perfectly composed. Snow rolls his hips forward, sliding himself balls deep inside me and I shove my face into his pillow before he can see my fangs pop.

**Simon**

I think his fangs just popped.

I wish I could see them. He never lets me, not on purpose, but sometimes I see when he doesn’t think I’m looking. I reckon he thinks they’re monstrous, but I’ve never thought so. I mean, not since we became what we are to each other. Not since we were eating leftover Christmas Eve dinner in his posh bed in his ridiculously posh house and he looked sheepish as he let me pull his hand from his mouth to get a proper look.

Thinking of that makes me think of what came after, the night of feverish kissing, the feeling of contentment that slotted into place when I finally realized that my obsession with Baz had nothing to do with animosity. I was so good at compartmentalizing my feelings that I didn’t even realize I had any until I was faced with the thought of losing him in that fire.

I can’t lose him. I won’t. Lamb can’t have him. He’s mine.

I tell him so, right in his ear. “You’re mine.”

He nods frantically, pushing himself up a bit and twisting round to catch my mouth with his. He’s so bendy. His lips are cold and I shiver into our kiss.

I want to tell him I love him. I feel it so keenly and I need him to know, but I can’t say it for the first time when I’m humping him from behind. I may be a complete idiot, I may not have a romantic heart like he does, but even I know that’s not the way you want to remember your partner telling you they love you for the first time.

Something inside me melts. He’s my partner. He’s stuck by me for years now, even though I’ve been a gigantic pain in the arse the whole time and will probably continue to be.

I push him back down, gentle but insistent, and nose into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “I love this,” I say, because it’s close enough to what I want to say to feel good. And it’s also completely fucking true.

**Baz**

This man is going to be the death of me. I’ve known it since I was eleven.

He says _I love this_ , murmurs it against the spit damp skin of my neck and my entire body erupts into goosebumps. I curl my toes and hump Snow’s mattress and tremble at the shocks of pleasure sparking in my veins. I’m not going to last much longer. I can’t believe I’ve lasted as long as I have. His confessions are going to do me in.

“I wanna do it again,” he whispers. “Later tonight. Or tomorrow. Can we?”

All I can do is nod. The thought makes me weak.

“Can you be on top, like— ride me?”

My brain short circuits for a moment. His voice is so quiet that I could be convinced I’m just hearing my deepest fantasies manifest themselves if not for the fact that I’m a vampire and my sense of hearing is impeccable.

Which means it’s real. He’s really asking me if I’d be willing to ride him. As if I wouldn’t kill for the privilege.

I can’t actually answer his question, then. I’m too busy being wracked by the most intense orgasm of my life.

**Simon**

Baz hasn’t answered me. And he’s hugging my pillow. I can feel the muscles in his back flexing beneath me. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. I’m afraid to ask.

**Baz**

Crowley. I’ve made an awful mess of his sheets. And myself. I came so hard I think I blacked out for a second. And the fact that Snow is still buried inside me should probably feel like too much now, but it doesn’t. It still feels good and right and beautiful and… _magic_.

I’m so soft for him. He makes me an imbecile. But I don’t care. We’re magic together. He may not have any left for himself, but together we make it. I hope he feels it too.

He whispers into my ear. “Are you okay?”

I twist around and kiss him and hope he can’t taste the salt of my tears.

**Simon**

I think Baz is crying.

I think he came.

He’s kissing me. He smells so good. He tastes so good. He feels so good.

“I love you,” I say.

Fuck.

**Baz**

It’s just like Simon Snow to make a confession like that for the first time when I’m blubbering and he’s about to—

“Shit,” he breathes. “I didn’t mean to say it now.”

“Simon…”

**Simon**

Oh.

He’s kissing me harder now. He’s pushing back against me and kissing me and he called me Simon.

I love when he calls me Simon. It kind of feels like I love you when he calls me Simon.

But then he actually says it. “I love you too, you beautiful disaster.” He’s definitely crying. “I always have.”

“Did you finish?” I ask.

He kisses me and nods. I smile against his mouth. “That means you liked it,” I breathe.

**Baz**

I love him, I love him, I love him.

“It’s your turn now, Simon,” I tell him.

“Do you want me to—” He tries to pull away from me, but I clench around him. I’m going to be sore tomorrow, I can tell already, but I don’t care. Maybe I even like it a little.

“Don’t you dare,” I say.

Outside Snow’s room, Bunce turns on the television.

**Simon**

Penny just turned the telly on, which means there’s a noise barrier between her ears and the sounds I’m about to make as I come inside my boyfriend.

I still try to be quiet. I shove my face into Baz’s long neck and breathe harsh and hot there as I chase the incredible feeling he’s giving me. Well— the incredible feeling I’m taking from him. But he’s letting me. He’s letting me have it. And someday I know I’ll be able to let him give it to me. I feel like we’ve made progress. Maybe I won’t be so hopelessly fucked up forever.

Baz loves me. I’m allowed to have this. I’m allowed to have him.

**Baz**

I could die right now. Again.

I wish I could go back in time to fifth year and tell desperately queer and lonely and frightened Baz that someday I’d be laid out naked on Simon’s Snow sheets, that someday he’d make love to me as he whispered in my ear about how special and beautiful and perfect I am. That someday he’d come inside me and I’d cry and it would be messy and overwhelming and worth every second I had to wait for it.

He turns me over as soon as he’s finished. His wings have popped, and they frame the two of us in red as he leans down and takes me in his arms. Our bodies press together in a horrifically messy embrace, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s pushing my hair out of my face and peppering it with kisses.

I’m not stupid enough to think it will always be like this. I know that right now he’s cresting a wave of adrenaline and oxytocin. Tomorrow may see a return to the fears he has about allowing himself to be vulnerable enough for such intimacy. And I’m prepared for it. Merlin knows he’s earned the right to find trust difficult.

But Bunce and I are here. We’re here for him. We made a pact after America. As long as he’ll have us, we’ll be here.

“Alright, Baz?” he asks me, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over my eyebrows.

“Snow.” I run my hands up his back, tracing the bumps of his spine. “Simon. I have quite literally never been better.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

I capture his face in my hands. I’m going to kiss every freckle, every mole. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making him feel my love. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“It was okay?”

I roll my eyes. He’s so, so stupid.

**Simon**

I feel a bit panicky. I’m not sure why. I guess it was just… well, it was a lot, wasn’t it? I just lost my virginity and told Baz I love him all in one go. We’re both covered in each other’s mess.

I sit up and end up yanking on my tail. I hadn’t even noticed that Baz’s spell had worn off.

He sits up too. Crowley, he’s so… naked.

And gorgeous. He’s really, really gorgeous. I’ve never seen him fully naked like this. His cock is soft and white, just like the rest of him. He looks like something carved by an old Italian bloke.

He’s looking at me like I’m made of glass. I hate it. I hate that I always put that look there.

“It was okay,” he says gently. “It _is_ okay, Snow.”

“Yeah.”

He tucks a strand of black hair behind his ear. Even now, my eyes are drawn to the way it makes the muscle in his forearm flex. I’m drawn to him like a bloody magnet.

This is the way it’s supposed to be. We love each other. We’re allowed to have this.

“I love you,” I say. “I didn’t mean to say it til after. Til now. Sorry.”

**Baz**

He’s so scared.

He’s sat back on his legs just staring at me. His hair is a bronze halo around his head, his chest flushed, his lips as red as I've ever seen them. He’s alive, just so fucking alive. I can hear his heart. It’s pounding. I can see the pulse of blood in his carotid, even in the dim light of his bedroom. His scent is so strong it makes my mouth water.

“Simon. You never ever have to apologize for telling me the three best words I’ve ever heard in my life, yeah? You could shout them at me when you’re on the toilet and it’d still make me weak in the knees.”

He smiles at that, and I think I’ve finally got through to him.

“Say it back,” he says through a grin.

“I love you. I fucking adore you, Snow.”

“Enough to order us a takeaway?”

I can't help the way it makes me smile. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot. “I reckon that could be arranged. I’ll need my clothes.” I look down at myself, at the naked mess of me. “And my wand. Need a bit of a cleanup.”

He runs a hand up through his curls. “Penny knows, doesn’t she?”

“Undoubtedly.”

His cheeks go pink. He smells like the cinema on a Sunday afternoon.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll just—”

There’s a knock on Snow’s door. We both jump.

“Hey, so. I’m— I’ve gotta step out for a minute. If there’s…” There’s an incredibly pregnant pause. “Anything. You lot need to sort out. Now would be a smashing time.”

Snow’s hiding his face in his hands. I reckon he’s incapable of speech at the moment, so I say, “Thank you, Bunce.”

“Don’t mention it.” She pauses. “Like… please. Don’t.”

Snow shakes his head in mortification. It’s all I can do not to laugh.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” she says, and we hear the front door close behind her a moment later.

“I can never look her in the eye again,” Snow groans.

I reach out and stroke his bicep. “Snow. I promise you she’ll recover.”

“Yeah but I won’t.”

“I’ll make sure I have my wand next time. I’ll soundproof the room. Twice. I’ll use every spell I know.”

“Next time?” He cocks his eyebrow. He never used to do that before. I think I’ve rubbed off on him.

“When you—” I correct myself. “If you want me.”

He stares into my eyes. I hope I don’t catch fire. I’m flammable after all.

“Next time, then,” he says finally. He crawls forward and leans into my space and kisses me once, right on the mouth.

**Simon**

Next time.

I like the sound of that.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to mandy for being the best prompt giver in the universe and facilitating my escape from real life 🖤


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